


Honesty

by TrappedInAFantasy



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrappedInAFantasy/pseuds/TrappedInAFantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silently, I wonder why I cannot be both fat and beautiful, as if there's some sort of law that  women cannot be fat and be beautiful. I say nothing and Finn kisses me, hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honesty

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based of the spoken word poetry of the fabulous Rachel Wiley and '10 honest thoughts on being loved by a skinny guy'. If you haven't seen this, I recommend it because it is amazing. The words in italics belong to her and anything recognisable belongs to the owners, I just added the extras. By the way, season three started last night, I'm posting this after midnight, the ending though. Oh my God, how could they do that too us? Enjoy.

_1._   
_I say, ‘I am fat.’_   
_He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’_   
_I wonder why I cannot be both._   
_He kisses me_   
_hard._

He always watches me when I stand in front of the mirror in _our bedroom_ in _our flat_ in the black and red lacy underwear that he loves, my head cocked to the side as I inspect how I look to myself and how I must look to him.

'I am fat'. I say it simply, as if reciting the weather outside, a hint of disinterest to my voice. Finn sits up from his position of lying on our bed in our white and blue bedroom, his sweatpants low of his hips and a white t-shirt rucked up and makes his way over to me. Soft kisses are placed between my shoulders, just above my bra strap and travel upwards to the back of my neck, making my giggle. Finn spins me around to face him.

'No. Rae. You, are beautiful'.

Silently, I wonder why I cannot be both fat and beautiful, as if there's some sort of law that women cannot be fat and be beautiful. I say nothing and Finn kisses me, hard.

_2._  
My college theater professor once told me  
that despite my talent,  
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.  
We do plays that involve singing animals  
and children with the ability to fly,  
but apparently no one  
has enough willing suspension of disbelief  
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.  
I daydream regularly  
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.

I stifle a yawn sat at the back of the theatre waiting for the blonde bimbos to finish flirting with Mr Geller, one half of the theatre course professors, so I can go and audition for the role of the damn fool that is Mercutio, and yes, I knows that I am is a girl and Mercutio is a boy, and no, I don't care.

'Last call for auditions for the role of Juliet'. When no one makes their way to the stage I breathe a sigh of relief, those were taking centuries.

'Miss Earl, are you planning on auditioning for the role of the Juliet?'.

'No'.

'Thank the Gods. Just as well really, a girl such as you playing the role of Juliet'.

'Excuse me?'.

'Well Rachel, someone of your size isn't right for the role of the romantic female lead'.

'What?'.

'Regardless of the fact that you are one of the most talented students I've taught in a long time you will never be cast as a romantic lead because people are not willing to believe that people fall in love with fat girls. Now, what role are you auditioning for?'.

'Mercutio'.

'You're much more suited to that role'.

(I won't realise it until much later but this conversation was part of the reason I decided to go into radio.)

On the opening night, Finn, Chop, Chloe and Archie sit in the front row of the theatre to watch Izzy and I in our roles, myself as Mercutio and Izzy as Juliet's maid. Afterwards, Finn and Chop come backstage to collect Izzy and I. At the time I was stood next to our dressing rooms when they came along, and Chop went inside, Finn produced a bunch of huge blood red roses from behind him.

'For you. Mae'.

I smile and kiss his cheek. 'Thank you so much Finley. They're beautiful'.

'Not as beautiful as you'.

Laughing, I whisper a 'Smooth' as he kisses me. I was too caught up in the kiss to notice Mr Geller stood a little way down the corridor watching us with slight disbelief.

From that day onwards I spend his lectures regularly daydreaming about fucking Finn on his front lawn.

_3._  
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,  
while he is still asleep,  
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,  
for a punchline,  
for other girls’ phone numbers.

At 5AM on a Sunday morning I should still be asleep wrapped up in Finn's arms, not waking for at least another four hours, especially considering that we didn't get in from Chloe's party in her new flat until nearly two. But instead I am sat on the floor of our bedroom going through the pockets of his black skinny jeans looking for numbers, a reason as to why someone like Finn, is with someone like myself. The girl who takes up to much room, the girl who is too loud and can consume five pints of beer without even feeling it.

I look for phone numbers of girls that could have cornered him at the bar when he was getting a round of drinks in. I look for phone numbers of female teachers at his school, where he started teaching just six months ago, in September 2001. I look for anything that proves why he was with me, and for Christs sake, it's 2002 now, and I'm twenty three in just over six months and we've been together for over five years but I can't understand why he wants me on these days when I don't feel beautiful.

While I was caught up in my thoughts I didn't notice the sound of Finn shifting in the bed next to me.

'Rae?'. His voice is rough from sleep and his hair is sticking up at all angles and I've never loved him more. 'Rae, what are you doing?'.

'Nothing, just thinking really'.

'About how Chop really shouldn't tell the joke about the dog and pavement anymore?'.

'About us'.

'What about us?'.

'I don't understand'.

'You're not going to talk about the whole number thing again, are you? Because I didn't understand it the first time. If you are, give me warning so I can clear my head of information'.

'I don't understand why you are with me'.

'Because you're Rae. You're sassy as fuck and strong as fuck. But you're sweet as hell and I'm unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you'. He presses a kiss to my forehead and wraps his arms around me. 'Are things bad again?'.

I smile, and whisper 'No' into his ear, and for the first time in a long time I actually mean it.

_4._  
When we hold hands in public,  
I wonder if he notices the looks —  
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;  
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.

The stares aren't quite as bad when we walk around London, simply because in London you can see pretty much anything when walking down Oxford street. It's when we go home we get stared at. Stamford isn't a particularly open minded place and every time we go back to visit a mother, a father and a step father, I can't wait until it is time to leave again. Everywhere we go I can hear the whispers, 'What is someone like him doing with someone like her?', 'Pretty boy, ugly girl', 'What can she have going for her?' and the one that hurts me the most, 'She doesn't deserve someone like him. Look at the state of her'. If he notices the stares and remarks we get he doesn't make any form of acknowledgment of them.

But I notice them, and maybe it's just because I've had years of it. People look at us as if we are in a DisneyLand parade and I am the float and he is the performer that pulls the float along. I wonder if he notices how my hands tense so much that they feel like they could be made of rope.

_5._  
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you  
I will not take sex tips from you  
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.

I'm nineteen when I swear I will never pick up a magazine like Cosmo again. Chloe, Izzy and I are sat in Chloe's bedroom, flipping through glossy magazines with beautiful, tiny girls on the cover. The magazine itself is full of diet regimes and then sexy lingerie to wear with your new tiny body to make you irresistible to your man. Said girls look fabulous, admittedly, but not one of them are above a size six. It is clear to me in that moment that Cosmo does not believe that I deserve Finn.

Finn. My Finn. Sex on a plate. Gorgeous Finn.

This is why when Izzy pulls out an article on the best ways to turn on a man, I refuse to read it. Both the other girls don't understand why I refused to read it until I explained and then Chloe smiles at me.

'I'm proud of you Rae. Two years ago you would have read that article in a shot, but now you realise that you don't need that stuff'.

I grin, 'If last night was anything to go by, I don't need those tips'.

At the same time both Chloe and Izzy shout, 'Rae! Too much information!'.

It's nearly ten minutes later when Izzy turns around to me and asks whether Finn had told me that him and Chop talk about sex and what it's like with us.

'Yeah, he knows that we talk about it a lot as well'.

'Well Chop said something about Finn saying that he went down on you for like half an hour, doing that teasing thing'.

'Yeah...'.

'Well, did he develop gills?'.

_6.  
He tells me he loves me with the lights on._

After the incident with Liam and being told to turn off the lights because 'I wasn't exactly an oil painting', I automatically assumed that Finn would want the same thing. On our first time together I reached out to turn off the lights before he asked me what I was doing.

'I assumed you wouldn't want lights'.

'Why would you assume that?'.

'I'm not exactly an oil painting and I doubt that you would want to see that'.

Finn looks at me in disbelief, 'Why on earth would you think that?'.

I just look at him and he understands why I thought he'd want the lights off.

'Liam'.

He looks at me, really looks and with the lights still on, he kisses all over my face, my cheeks, my nose, my eyelids, my forehead and lastly my lips. 'Rachel Earl, you are beautiful and I love you'.

Smiling, I reply with 'You're not so bad yourself, for a dickhead'.

Finn smiles 'You're the Dickhead'. He kisses me hard.

'Now' He asks me when we were done, 'Am I still not allowed to go and kill Liam for making you think that you were not completely beautiful in every way?'.

'No. Well not today, or maybe tomorrow. Because we need to do that again'.

_7._  
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,  
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.  
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.  
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.

On a Sunday morning we lay in bed in our flat, our first home together, after having sex on and off all night, with my head on his shoulder. My hand trails down his chest, feeling the piano keys that are his ribs without having to press down. My hand travels further down to his hipbone and I cup my hand around it, arm across his stomach.

'You quite alright there Rae?'.

'Yeah'.

'What are you looking at?'.

'You. You're beautiful, do you know that?'.

He wrinkles his nose up and shakes his head, 'Girl, you have a strange idea of beautiful, you know that?'.

'No I don't, you're not bad, you know, for a dickhead'.

'Rae, it's you who's the dickhead'.

'I'm not a dickhead, dickhead'.

Finn laughs, and reaches out to flick my nose. 'I need to get up and get moving. I promised Chop I'd meet him at half ten at his place to help him pack up some of his stuff'. He slides out of the bed and makes his way into the bathroom, 'I'm having a shower, you going to join me?'.

'Nah. I'm going to stay in bed for a little longer and then listen to some music and decide what I'm going play on the show this week'.

'Okay. Tell me if you find anything good, yeah?'.

'Will do'.

'Rae what's the time?'.

'Twenty to ten, Dickhead'.

'Shit'. The shower starts up and half an hour later he's leaving after gulping down some black coffee and I'm left alone with my thoughts. He doesn't believe me when I tell him the Gods honest truth that he is beautiful, but I truly believe that the day he does believe me will be the day he understands that I am punching well above my weight with him, that he is so far out of my league he might as well be on the moon. You could sip wine from his collar bones, get lost in the puddles of molten chocolate he passes for eyes.

Some days, such as this one, I fear that the day he believes me will be the day he leaves and doesn't come back. He'll realise that he's too good for me and he'll hook up with someone like Chloe, beautiful, thin, quite Chloe. The day he realises that I am right is the day he will leave.

_8._  
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop  
assumes we are just friends  
and flirts over the counter.  
I spend the next two weeks  
mentally replacing myself with her  
in all of our photographs.  
When I admit this to him  
we spend the evening taking new photos together.  
He will not let me delete a single one of them.

We stop for coffee on a Saturday afternoon after Christmas with Archie in a way to mainstream Starbucks and the cute hipster girl with big geeky glasses, a nose ring and brunette thick hair is the one to take our order. She smiles at me and Archie and looks Finn up and down.

'Hi. Welcome to Starbucks. What can I do for you today?'. She smiles when she says this, a hint of something else implied behind it.

Finn doesn't even look at her when he places our order 'One large latte, one large cappuccino and...'. He looks at me, 'Earl grey?'. I nod. 'And a large earl grey thanks'.

'Drink in?'.

'Take away'.

'That's a shame'.

Finn looks at her for second, 'Really?', He asks her incredulously.

'I hoped that I could talk to you some more'.

'Did you? How much are the drinks?'.

'Yes, I really did. And £8 please sweetie'.

Finn hands over the money with a bewildered look on his face and as he waits for the change, tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. We move further down the line to the pickup point, Finn not noticing the look of longing from the girl.

Later that evening, when Finn's dozed off, I sit in bed next to him and scroll through the photos on my phone of us together, regardless of whether it was just us or us and the rest of the gang. Mentally I replace myself with her in all the pictures. I spend two weeks doing this for every picture I see of us, seeing how he would look with some tiny wisp of a girl.

When I finally tell him this, he grabs his phone off the night stand and beckons me over to him. I settle between his legs and he snaps a photo of us.

'Hey! What are you doing?'.

'Taking a photo'.

'Why?'.

'Because we need more photos together'.

'Delete it pretty please'.

'No way Girl'. Finn snaps more photos of us throughout the evening, ones of me laughing and one of me snorting diet coke out of my nose. The one I particularly like is of me looking down facing the camera, a tiny hint of a smile on my face with Finn pressing a kiss to my cheek. This picture becomes my lock screen on my phone for nearly six months.

_9._  
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.  
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.  
Loving me is not a fetish.  
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.  
I am not a fucking novelty.

The one thing I hate about all these love your body campaigns is the phrase 'Big girls need love too'. I support the idea of being body confident but the phrase makes it seem as if people forget about us. In case they hadn't notice, our size makes it hard to forget about us. Kester would moan at me if he was here, he'd say that I was being defensive, laughing at something I was not comfortable with. I'm allowed to do it, I'm the fat one.

There are always people shocked when they find out that Finn does not have a fat fetish. As if they believe that the only people capable of loving me are those that have a fetish for it. Having sex with me does not require one of those little star shapes, an asterisk, those things used to talk about the terms and conditions for something. It is not a novelty to find me attractive, to find me beautiful, these things are very real to me.

10.  
I say, ‘I am fat.’  
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,  
and kisses me  
hard.

He always watches me when I stand in front of the mirror in our bedroom in our flat in the black and red lacy underwear that he loves, my head cocked to the side as I inspect how I look to myself and how I must look to him.

'I am fat'. I say it simply, as if reciting the weather outside, a hint of disinterest to my voice. Finn sits up from his position of lying on our bed in our white and blue bedroom, his sweatpants low of his hips and a white t-shirt rucked up and makes his way over to me. Soft kisses are placed between my shoulders, just above my bra strap and travel upwards to the back of my neck, making my giggle. Finn spins me around to face him.

'No, Rae. You are so much more'.

He's right, because regardless of my size, I am more than what I weigh.

I am smart. Three years spent at Bristol university taught me that. The grades I left there with taught me that.

I am happy. The fact that I have not hurt myself since I was eighteen, nearly six whole years has taught me that.

I am funny. Years of making the gang laugh has taught me that.

I have good taste in music. You don't need to be a genius to figure that out.

I am loved. Finn taught me that.

Everyone is worth more than the numbers on the scale.


End file.
